


Shades of Gray

by rzrcrst (talesfromtheguild)



Category: Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 50 shades of gray au, F/F, F/M, Inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesfromtheguild/pseuds/rzrcrst
Summary: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x Reader 50 shades AUGame of Thrones x 50 Shades AUThis is an +18 series - minors DNI - I will block you.
Relationships: Ellaria Sand/Reader, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/Reader, Oberyn Martell/Reader, Oberyn Martell/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Shades of Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x Reader 50 shades AU 
> 
> Game of Thrones x 50 Shades AU 
> 
> This is an +18 series - minors DNI - I will block you. 

* * *

Chapter 1: Grey 

Shoving your arms into the sleeves of your borrowed sweater, you frantically moved through your bedroom as you gathered up the few things you needed before returning to stand in front of your floor length mirror. 

You sighed as you took in your appearance. This was the best you could do: one of Sansa’s dusty blue waffle knit sweaters, a thrifted pair of fitted black jeans, and an old pair of wedge heels that you’d found at the back of your closet from your freshman year of college. 

If you had had more time, you’d of gone to a thrift store to pick up a more sophisticated looking outfit but Sansa had sprung this on you only last night which left you with this shabby outfit to conduct this important interview in. 

Sansa sat on the couch in the living room of your shared apartment, coughing and sniffling as you moved around your room. Sansa was your best friend, roommate, and partner in crime. You’d met in Chemistry in your freshman year of highschool, and had been friends ever since. And it had only made sense to live with your best friend when the two of you went to the same college. But today, she had chosen to succumb to the flu which left you to conduct her very important interview. 

You hastily picked up the diamond earrings your parents had given you for your 21st birthday and shoved them into your ears as you hopped around on one foot, searching for your belt. As you shoved your belt through the loops of your jeans, Sansa called out to you in a hoarse voice: “Are you almost ready?”

“Yes Mom!” you hollered back. You flitted about your room, and picked up your backpack before moving toward the door, where you hastily flicked off the lights and moved down the hallway toward the living room. 

“I’m so sorry you have to do this.” Sansa apologized for the millionth time. You rolled your eyes at her as you shrugged on your dark grey trench coat before looking around on the kitchen counter top for your car keys. 

“I already told you, it’s okay. Everyone gets sick - even you sometimes.” you told her as you picked up your keys and turned to look at her. 

She was huddled in a pile of thick, cozy blankets on the couch, with a dozen textbooks and her laptop on her lap as she watched the Bachelor. 

“I know, but I feel bad. And it took me like 9 months to get this stupid interview, and it would take another 6 to reschedule and I don’t have that kind of time as editor of the school paper. We’ll have graduated by then.” she rambled, her voice scratchy in places. 

Even sick she mSansaged to be persuasive in the kindest of ways.

“Sansa, I’m going aren’t I?” you asked, looking at her. 

“You are… that’s why I love you.” Sansa said, before she leaned forwards and grabbed a small pile of papers from the coffee table where she had other various stacks of homework piled up. Finals were in a months time, which you had planned on studying for today, but Sansa had other plans for you today. 

“Here’s the list of questions I had for him, and if you use the voice memo app on your phone, I can transcribe everything later.” Sansa said, passing you her list. You took the small pile of papers from her hands and stuffed them into your backpack.

“I know nothing about him.” you revealed to her, trying to suppress your rising panic.

“Just stick to my questions, and you’ll do fine. I know you will.” She told you. 

You nodded as you slung your backpack over your shoulder and gave her a small smile. 

“I put some soup on the stove for you. You just have to heat it up, and there’s medicine on the kitchen counter for you when you need it.” you told her. 

“You’re the best!” she smiled as she watched you walk towards the door. Opening your apartment door, you gave her one last look before leaving the apartment. 

*

The 165 mile drive from Riverrun to the city of KIng’s Landing is a fairly easy drive - especially this early in the day. You don’t have to be in King’s Landing until 2pm, giving you plenty of time to drive down Kingsroad Highway, and enjoy the scenery. The drive through Crownlands is beautiful. You pass by the major cities, like Harrenhal, but drive through smaller towns which helps to break up the country side you drive through.   
Your fingers drum over your steering wheel as music plays from your bluetooth radio, streaming from Youtube as you hum along to the Hozier song that plays. To say you are nervous would be an understatement. When you had told Sansa you knew nothing about the man you were interviewing for her, you meant it. 

You knew nothing about Oberyn Martell - CEO of Dorne Industries. You had made assumptions and educated guesses on what his character would look and be like when you arrived, but the unknown still made you nervous. A large part of Sansa’s grade relied on your ability to complete this interview, and get the answers Sansa needed. So no pressure, right?

Dorne Industries headquarters was an impressive building, made up of 25 stories, made up of curved glass and steel. It was an architect’s wet dream with the words - House Martell - written discreetly over the large glass front doors. 

Walking into the large lobby, you drink in the perfectly clean waiting area. Off white marble covers every surface of the room, which makes you self conscious of the dark clothes you wore, making you stick out like a sore thumb. White furniture is scattered throughout the open floor plan, and the only pop of color is provided by several plants that sit in the corners of the room.

On the ground, in gold, shines the words: “ _ Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken” _ underneath the words is a golden shield with a spear through the middle. The design is beautiful and different from the very different any sigils or seals you’d ever seen before. 

Behind a white wooden desk, stood a very attractive blonde young woman who smiled kindly at you. Hesitantly walking up to her, you take in her cream colored wrap dress and stare at her perfectly styled hair. She looks incredible. 

“I’m here to see Mr. Martell. Y/N L/N for Sansa Stark.” 

The blonde before you arched one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows at you before plastering a fake smile on her ruby colored lips. 

“Excuse me for a moment Miss L/N.” said the receptionist before she looks down at her computer and begins to type away. 

You stare down at your second hand coat, and begin to doubt your stylistic choices. Perhaps you should have asked to borrow one of Sansa’s more professional business casual dresses to conduct this interview. And maybe you should have put on more deodorant before you left the apartment. You fingers fiddle with the rings you have on your hands, trying to dispel some of the nervous energy that begs to be released. 

“Miss Stark is expected. Sign here please.” says the receptionist as she retrieved a document off of the printer and passed it to you with a very fancy looking pen. 

You grab the pen from her and scribble your name down on the piece of paper, not even bothering to read what you were signing. Taking the paper back, the blonde looks it over before she turns her attention back to you. 

“You’ll want the last elevator on the left. Press the 21st button.” she states as she hands you a visitor pass - as if you need one. You obviously did not belong in this pristine building. You smile at her, take the pass and head for the elevators at the end of the hallway. 

Inside, you press the button for floor 21 and attach the visitor badge to the outside of your trench coat. The ride up to the 21st floor is faster than you thought it would take, and it gives you a single moment to collect yourself before the doors are sliding open, and you are stepping into another impeccably clean off white marble lobby.

The same sun pierced insignia was engraved on the ground as you step out of the elevator. Moving to another white wooden desk, you’re greeted by a dark-skinned woman in an impeccable ivory dress. She looks incredibly beautiful in it. 

The woman looks up from her computer screen and smiles sweetly at you. 

“Mr. Martell will be but a moment. Please have a seat Ms. L/N.”

You nod and move to sit down on one of the white leather chairs just outside of what you assume to be Mr. Martell’s office. Seated in one of the white leather chairs, you take in the gorgeous view that Dorne Industries has over King’s Landing - and if you hadn’t been so nervous, you’d have appreciated the unfamiliar but spectacular view more. 

You dig the small packet of papers of all the questions Sansa had given you from inside your backpack and curse your roommate. You still knew nothing about Oberyn Martell. Briefly skimming the questions, you tried to get a hint of who Oberyn Martell was - but a voice startled you out of trying to mentally prepare for your upcoming interview. 

“Ms. L/N?” asks another blonde woman dressed in off white. You jump to your feet and wobble a bit in your wedges. What was it with the while off white wardrobe? It was beginning to freak you out. Perhaps Mr. Martell insisted upon all his employees wearing white -  _ weird _ . 

“Mr. Martell will be with you in a moment. May I take your coat and -” she hesitates for a moment as she looks disapprovingly down at your beat up old backpack, “ - your bag? Have you been offered any refreshments?” 

Blonde #2 comes to your side and takes your bag and coat from you before you can answer her questions. 

“Um, no I haven’t.” you answered, a little flustered from such a slow reply. Blonde #2’s eyes cut to the dark-skinned woman you were first greeted by.  _ Uh-oh _ . Did you get her in trouble? 

“Olivia, will you get Ms. L/N a glass of water please?” Blonde #2 asks.

Olivia bolts up right from behind her desk and rushes off to grab your glass of water. 

“Please allow me to apologize. Olivia is our newest intern here.”

“It’s all right. New jobs can be intimidating.” you tell Blonde #2 and hope that Olivia won’t be in too much trouble later. Blonde #2 smiles fakely at you. “Mr. Martell will be another 5 minutes. Please take a seat.” 

As you sit down again, Olivia returns to the waiting area with your glass of water. She hands it to you, and after you thank her, she scampered back behind the white desk with Blonde #2 and proceeds to return to whatever they were working on before you interrupted them.

Your eyes fall back to the beautifully large windows that overlook King’s Landing. Taking another look, it’s far prettier than it was a moment ago. Every building sparkles in the low sunlight, and the Narrow Sea shines brightly in the distance. It’s beautiful. You have to come south again once you graduate. Sansa would love to see the Narrow Sea and sunbathe for a whole week over the summer. 

The sound of Mr. Martell’s door opening startles you from your daydreaming. A tall, olive-skinned man emerges from the food with a hearty laugh. 

“OH Mr. Martell - you scoundrel.” he laughs. When he turns from the doorway, his eyes meet yours and crinkle when he smiles. You return the smile. Perhaps if the last meeting went well, then maybe - just maybe - your interview won’t be as terrible as you believe it will go. 

Olivia - jumpy as ever - leaps from her seat to retrieve his jacket for him. 

“Good afternoon ladies.” he says before he departs from the room. 

“Mr. Martell will see you now, Ms. L/N.” you stand rather shakily in your wedges and smooth down your wrinkled clothes. If only you’d had the time to iron them. Oh who were you kidding - wrinkled clothes were the least of your worries right now. “Do go through. There’s no need to knock.” Blonde #2 tells you as you approach the dark wooden door. 

Pushing open the slightly ajar door, your heel catches on something, and sends you head first into the office. Your papers thankfully don’t scatter everywhere, but your cell phone clattered across the marble tiles, and rolls somewhere out of sight. Your knees throb from the harsh contact with the ground, and you’re certain you may have sprained your ankle. 

Strong but gentle hands are on your, helping you to your feet before you even know what’s happening. Embarrassment floods through your body as you stand up and look at who had helped you up. Dark expansive earthen eyes meet yours and you have to remind yourself to breathe. 

“Miss Stark,” he extends a long fingered hand towards you, “I’m Oberyn Martell. Are you all right? Would you care to sit?” he questions you.

He’s so young and handsome.  _ Holy shit! _ He’s tall and dressed in a dark grey suit with a white button up. His dark brown eyes burn into yours as you stare dumbly at him.

“Um, actually…” you tell him as you find your voice and place your hand in his. “Miss Stark was indisposed so she sent me. I hope you don’t mind.”

An amused smile sparks in his eyes but not on his lips. “And you are?” His voice is warm and definitely amused. 

“Y/N L/N. I study with Sansa at Westeros University.” 

“I see.” comes his simple reply. “Would you care to sit?” His accent hits your ears - you’ve never heard anything like it before. He guides you towards a dark mahogany desk where 2 white leather chairs are sat in front of it. You ignore the flare of pain that shoots up your calf from inside your ankle - you’d definitely sprained it or something. You’ll take a look at it later. 

His office is impressive. Floor-to-ceiling windows sit behind his desk, and overlook the East and the Narrow Sea. The white walls behind you are adorned with 36 beautiful paintings, arranged in a spiral, which makes up a strange mosaic of a sunset. The yellows and oranges, and violets and pinks mixed with dark cobalts and dazzling azures all put together makes up a marvelous and breathtaking piece of art. It’s unique, enthralling and enchanting. 

“A local artist.” Mr. Martell states, but you can hear something in his voice - like there’s more of a secret between him and those paintings. 

“They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” 

Apart from the paintings, the rest of his office is cold, clean and clinical. You wouldn’t be surprised if you could eat off of the white marble beneath your feet. 

“I couldn’t agree more, Ms. L/N.” he replies and you can’t stop yourself from blushing, as blood rushes to your face and makes you feel hot at his soft sweet tone. 

The office around you reflects the god who gracefully sinks into his office chair behind his dark desk. It’s now that you notice his button up is opened, showing off his tanned muscular chest. Blinking rapidly, you glance down at the questions Sansa had prepared for you. You fumble for the pen you had tucked behind your ear and pat your pockets for your phone, only to remember it went skittering across the floor when you had stumbled through the office door.

“I believe this belongs to you.” Mr. Martell says making your eyes snap upwards from the floor to meet his eyes. He holds your cell phone in his hands, and extends it towards you. You reach forwards and take it from him, and immediately notice that a large part of the screen is shattered and cracked. 

_ Fuck! _

“I apologize about the cracked screen. Let me replace it for you.” 

“Oh no! No - no,” you stutter out the lie as you carefully unlock your phone and tap against the screen to get to your voice memo app. “It was cracked before - it’s been cracked - please don’t worry about it.” You ramble as you feel another wave of embarrassment rushes over you and settles hot in your cheeks. 

Mr. Martell looks at you for a moment with a small quirk in his brow, like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he lets it slide. 

“Do you mind if I record your answers?” you ask, glancing hesitantly up at the man before you. 

“Of course.” he replies. Before he can make you feel smaller than you already do, you decide to dive into the questions before you can chicken out. 

“Did Sansa - Miss Stark explain what this was for?”

“Yes. This will appear in the graduation issue of the student paper, as I am conferring the degrees at this year’s graduation ceremony.” 

You can’t stop your eyebrows from raising slightly at this news. God why hasn’t Sansa told you this? 

A small, but devious smirk meets Mr. Martell’s eyes, he’s clearly amused by your shocked expression.

“Good - great!” you try to breeze by your own embarrassment but can’t. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to this.” you admit. 

“Take all the time you need Miss L/N.” he teases you.

You glance down at your questions - Sansa’s questions - and try not to think about how handsome Mr. Martell is. 

“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” you glance up at him. 

His smile is forced and he looks slightly disappointed in your choice of words.   
“Business is all about people, my dove, and I’m very good at judging people.” he says, and you had guessed as much. 

_ Of course he  _ **_judges_ ** _ people. _

“I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t. I know how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team and know how to reward them.” he pauses and fixes his dark gaze on you. “It’s all down to knowing how a scheme works, from the inside out. I work very hard to know every detail, to be able to make decisions based in logic and facts. The bottom line is it’s ways down to good people.” 

“Perhaps you’re just lucky.” 

You watch as he schools his expression, but you hear an arrogant huff leave his lips - which look soft and warm. 

“I don’t believe in luck or chance Miss L/N. It’s all down to having the right people in your corner, and directing their energies accordingly.”

“You sound like a control freak.” you say before you can stop yourself.  _ Where was the filter between your brain and your mouth? _ Perhaps it got knocked loose when you face planted your way into his office. 

“I exercise control in all things Miss L/N.” 

Looking at him, there;s no trace of humor in his smile - and that familiar devious spark glints in his eye again. He holds your gaze and refuses to break it. Your heartbeat quickens and your face grows hot yet again. You fidget in your seat and bite the edge of your lip. Why did he have such an unnerving affect on you? Was it his age? His overwhelming good looks? Was it the way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip and against the little patch of facial hair he has there?

“Besides immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things.” 

_ Control freak _ \- you scribble down, making sure he cannot read your writing.

“And do you feel like you have immense power?”

“I employ over 40 thousand people Miss L/N. That gives me a sense of responsibility - power if you will. If I were to just decide I was no longer interested in what I did, then 20 thousand people would struggle to pay their rent or their mortgage after a month or two.” 

Your mouth closes into a firm line when you stare at him, staggered by his lack of humility. 

“Don’t you have a board to answer to?” you ask, trying to keep your disgust with him out of your tone.

“I won my company. I answer to no one but myself.” he replies with a slightly raised brow.

Fuck! You’d have known that had you done some fuckign research - or if Sansa had told you a bit about him before coming here. You need to get back on topic for Sansa’s sake. 

“Do you have any interests outside of work?”

“I have many varied interests, little dove. Very varied.” his eyes are alight with some wicked thought as his eyes burn brightly.

“How do you hang out if you work so hard?” 

He smiles and reveals perfect white teeth. “Well to ‘hang out’ I fly. I sail. I indulge in many various physical activities. I am a very wealthy man Miss L/N, and I have expensive absorbing hobbies.” 

You glance down at Sansa’s questions as you stop yourself from openly rolling your eyes at his arrogance.  _ Douchebag. _

“You’ve invested a lot of money into manufacturing. Why? What’s the appeal?” you question him. When was this going to be done? You had finals to study for. 

“I like to build things. I like to know how things work, why they tick, how to construct and deconstruct, and I have a love for ships. What can I say?” 

You tilt your head to the side, “That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.” 

His mouth quirks upwards and he stares appraisingly at you. “Possibly - thought there are those who would argue I have no heart.” 

“And why would they say that?”

“Because they know me.” 

“Do you friends say you’re easy to get to know?” you regret opening your mouth - that was not one of Sansa’s questions.

“I’m a private person outside of work Miss L/N. I don’t often do interviews.” 

You huff out a confused laugh, “Then why would you agree to do this one?”

“Because I am a benefactor of the university and Miss Stark would not stop badgering my PR team. And while I couldn’t get her off my back, I do admire her tenacity.” 

You nod at his words. Sansa Stark was a very persuasive person - even from a young age. You knew she could lead the world some day if she put her mind to it. And Sansa gets what Sansa wants - which is why you’re here squirming uncomfortably in a fancy leather chair when you should be studying for your finals in the coming months. 

The door to Mr. Martell’s office opens softly, and a beautiful, tall woman enters. Long dark curls which look black and brown at the same time bounce behind her, and sprawl down the length of her back. She wears a gorgeous lilac maxi dress which flows around her, making her look ethereal and divine - like an actual goddess. She barely pays you any mind as she strides across the floor to Mr. Martell’s desk, where she seats herself on the edge of his chair, leans into him and kisses him. 

You stare openly at them as they kiss. It’s heated and passionate and as you watch them - full of love. Mr. Martell’s hands come to rest on either side of the woman’s face, pressing her against him like he cannot get enough of her. 

You tear your eyes away from them just seconds before they pull apart, and make it look as if you hadn’t been entranced by the passion the two of them shared. 

“And who is this lover?” asks the woman. 

“This is Y/N L/N. Miss L/N this is Ellaria Sand.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Sand.” you say, thankful to every god out there that you hadn’t stuttered over your words despite the embarrassment and mild discomfort you felt from watching them make out in front of you. 

“Miss L/N. us here for the Westeros article.” 

“Oh, I do love that college.” Ellaria smiles sweetly at you. 

You offer her a smile in return but you can tell that it’s either not convincing or you look uncomfortable while doing it. Mrs. Sand stays draped halfway over Mr. Martell’s lap as you struggled to continue to pick up where you left off. 

“You have a rather large family.” you state, halfway reading the questions you’re supposed to be asking him. Mr. Martell had been intimidating when you were alone with him, but now that Mrs. Sand was present, you felt thrown off what little game you had and incredibly intimidated by both of them and their exquisite beauty. 

“That’s not a question.” Mr. Martell stated.

“Don’t tease her lover.” Ellaria playfully scolded him.

“Right, sorry. Have you had to sacrifice family life for your work?”

“I have a family. A brother, several nieces and nephews,” He explains, but stops himself from saying more.

“Are you gay Mr. Martell.” you read off your paper. 

Ellaria bursts out laughing as Mr. Martell stares at you with an amused look - at least you hope it's an amused look. Your eyes widen as you cringe. You immediately scribble out the question, and roughly scratch:  **_Fuck you Sansa_ ** \- in the small area where an answer could have gone. 

“No, I am not gay Y/N.” 

“I’m so sorry. Its - it’s written here.” you apologize again as you look down afraid to meet his gaze. 

And the way he said your name… it sturred something within you that frightened and excited you. Your heartbeat accelerates and your breathing becomes shallow. Of course he isn’t gay! The woman draped across his lap was proof enough you dumb fucking idiot. You were going to kill Sansa when you returned home. You nervously glance up before looking down again. 

Mr. Martell cocks his head to one side, “These aren’t your questions?” 

“Uh- no - no. Sansa - Miss Stark made the questions.” 

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?” Your face burns. 

“No sir. She’s my roommate.” 

He rubs his chin thoughtfully as his dark eyes stare intently at you. 

“Did you volunteer for this?” Ellaria asks, breaking the terse silence. Weren’t you supposed to be conducting this interview, and not the other way around? 

“It was either me or her brother Robb.” your voice was small and apologetic.

“That explains a great deal.” 

A knock at the door saves you as Blonde #2 pokes her head in. “Pardon me Mr. Martell. Your next appointment is here.”

“Cancel that appointment Teya. Miss L/N and I aren’t done yet.” 

_ Oh no. _ You were back to Miss L/N and not a nickname.  _ Great… where hadn’t you fucked up? _

Teya hesitates for a moment before she nods and closes the door behind her. 

“Where were we my sweet?” Mrs. Sand asks, breaking the silence in the air again.    
“Please - don’t - don’t let me keep you from anything.” you stammer out, your eyes flickering back and forth between Mrs. Sand and Mr. Martell.

“I want to know more about you Miss L/N.” Mr. Martell says. “I think it’s only fair.” 

Fuck! Double fuck! Where was he going with this?

“There’s not much to tell, and the stuff to tell is rather boring I’m afraid.” 

“Do you have plans after you graduate?” 

“I do.” 

Mr. Martell arches a brow at you, expecting you to elaborate on your plans.

“If you must know, I am to take over the Greyjoy Historical Museum once I graduate.” 

“Oh that place is magical.” Mrs. Sand smiles softly. Her brown eyes sparkle with memories. 

“You wouldn’t come south? The weather is much nicer here.” Mr. Martell asks. 

Your eyes cut to the giant windows where rain pours down outside. 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” you say, “Although I don’t think I would fit in the South.” 

“Why do you say that sweet girl?” Ellaria asks. Your eyes snap up to meet hers -  _ Shit! had you said that part out loud?  _

“It’s obvious isn’t it?” you question them.  _ Look at me! I’m uncoordinated, scruffy, not blonde or into wearing white _ .

“Not to us.” he says.

That’s when you press ‘ _ stop’ _ on your voice memo app and work on controlling your breathing. You have to get out of this room - this building - this city - before you embarrass yourself any further or get teased anymore for being different since you’re from the North. 

“Would you like me to show you around?” Mr. Martell asks as he and Mrs. Sand rose from their seats. 

“No thank you Mr. Martell. I have a rather long drive ahead of me.”

“You’re driving back to Westeros?” he glances out the floor-to-ceiling windows where rain continues to pour down. 

“Yes sir. Thank you for the interview.” 

Mr. Martell holds out his hand and after a wary glance, you place your hand in his. He’s quick to raise it to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles - his lips are warm and soft in contrast to your freezing fingers and cold silver rings. He lets go of your hand and allows Ellaria to say her goodbyes - she hugs you tightly and smiles at you when she pulls away. 

Mr. Martell holds open his office door for you - wide. You cut him a glare. 

“Just ensuring you make it through the door this time Miss L/N.” 

“How chivalrous of you Mr. Martel..” you snap at him. His smile widens. 

I’m glad I’m entertaining you asshole. You roll your eyes at him internally as you step past him. 

“Do you have a coat?” he asks.

“A jacket.” 

Olivia leaps up and retrieves your jacket and backpack, and before she can pass them to you, Mr. Martell takes them from her. You stare at him for a moment, confused and suspicious before turning around to shrug on your coat. You sling your backpack over your shoulder before Mr. MArtell reaches past you to press the call button on the elevator. Thankfully the doors open and you step inside. Turning to face him, you notice how he looks at you. 

“Y/N,” he says as a farewell.

“Oberyn,” you reply, and mercifully the doors close. 


End file.
